Circle of Life
by benbrattlover
Summary: UPDATED! CHAPTER 3 POSTED! As Punky and her friends gather to mourn the passing of a loved one, unexpected news demonstrates the 'The Circle of Life'. PLEASE READ & REVIEW!
1. Default Chapter

Author's Notes: I just want to let my readers know that this isn't the way I wrote my story, but every time I upload it, the site changes my indentation, tabs, paragraphs, line spacing, fonts, etc. I know it looks really sloppy but this is not the way I wrote it, yet I can't figure out how to get the site to return my stories to their original format, so please bear with me, and excuse me. If you have any idea how I can get the site to keep, and post the stories in the original format with the same indentations, tabs, paragraphs, line spacing, fonts, etc., please tell me. You can email me at: benbrattlover at yahoo dot com.

I wrote this fic after reading about the death of actress, Susie Garrett, who played the role of Betty Johnson, the grandmother of Cherie, Punky's best friend on the show. I know this story is probably really bad, but I **LOVED** the show, "Punky Brewster", and I really want the category for the show to be listed on the website, so that other fans might be more encouraged to write things for the show too.

So, even if you think the fic is really bad, please be kind. Please read and review, but still give me honest feedback. If you have a negative comment, it is okay to post it, but also include some practical suggestions on how I could make the story better. I love to write stories and poems and I want to be a good writer so I don't mind negative comments as long as they are not flames. Positive and/or helpful advice and pointers are appreciated and welcomed. Negative, AND unconstructive feedback is not, and will be deleted. Otherwise, feel free to write what you think, with the exception of flames. Thank you!

I don't own any of the characters, except for the ones that I create. The "Punky Brewster" characters belong to David W. Duclon, Nick Abdo, NBC, and all the creators, writers, producers and directors of this show. But I've written this story, I own this story, and all the others that I write or have written. Please do not use, copy, post elsewhere, or reproduce it in any way, shape, or form without my permission. Thanks!

Please read and review! Thank you!

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It's a bright and sunny Monday morning in October. The fall air is crisp with the scent of autumn, as twenty-six year old Penelope "Punky" Brewster rushes around her apartment getting ready to leave for work, at the Children's Hospital of Boulder, where she is in her first year of residency. She is just about to walk out the door, when the phone rings.

The pretty, willowy brunette groans loudly. "Great! The phone's ringing! That's just great! Who could be calling at 7 in the morning?" she snarls to herself. "As if I'm not already running late! This is just perfect!"

Dropping her bag, purse and jacket by the door, Punky picks up the cordless phone from its stand, turns it on, and sits down on her couch – the big, black-cushioned, futon, a remnant left over from her college, and medical school days

"Hello?" she barks impatiently.

"Punky?" a voice says, sounding far away. "Is that you, Punky?"

"Yes, this is Punky!" replies Punky crossly."Who's this?"

"Punky, It's Henry. We need to talk. Something has happened." Henry says quietly. "I think you should sit down."

"I am sitting down, Henry." Punky answers patiently. "What is it? What's happened?"

"Punky, there's no easy way to say this, so I'm just going to come right out and say it," begins Henry. "Betty Johnson died early this morning."

Punky gasps, as she leans against the back of the futon. She can't believe it. Her good friend and one of her biggest allies is dead. Mrs. Johnson, who had encouraged Punky to go into medicine, being so supportive all along the way, of her goal to become a doctor, is gone. From the beginning, Betty had been her mentor, helping and guiding her – even getting her a candy striper job at the same hospital where she worked as a nurse, which led to her interest in medicine, and the desire to become a physician. Punky cannot believe that her friend and mentor, and the grandmother of her best friend, Cherie is dead.

"How?" Punky asks, stunned, her eyes filling up with tears. "What happened?"

"She had massive stroke," replies Henry sadly. "She had just come over to our apartment for dinner, when she just collapsed. I called 911 and the paramedics rushed her to the hospital by ambulance. At first the doctors were able to revive her, and she even regained consciousness for a little while. But then, early this morning, she suddenly went into cardiac arrest. They tried to resuscitate her, but she died at about 3:30 this morning."

"Didn't they intubate her?" demands Punky, going into her 'doctor mode'. "Why didn't they put her on a ventilator?"

"They did, Punky. But they just couldn't save her."

"I'm so sorry, Henry." Punky cries, brushing away the tears, rolling down her face. "Poor Cherie. Does Cherie even know yet?" she asks, concerned about her dearest friend.

"Yes. I called Cherie, and Betty's sister, Larniece, just before I called you," replies Henry. "Cherie, Josh, and the baby are taking the next flight into Chicago, from Philadelphia. I couldn't reach Larniece, she's on tour in Asia, but I left an urgent message with her answering service in Paris, for her to call me as soon as she checked in. Do you think you'll be able to come home for the funeral, Punky?"

"I really hope so." Punky sighs. "I'll probably have to switch around my schedule, or find someone to cover for me, in exchange for trading shifts with them. When's the service?"

"The funeral is tentatively scheduled for this coming Saturday, provided that Larniece gets the message to call me, and can make it here in time." Henry explains. "Otherwise it'll be as soon as Larniece can get here."

"O.K. Well, I'd better get going. I'm getting late for work. I'll call you from the hospital, in a little while," says Punky hurriedly. "Also, Henry, I'm really sorry about Mrs. Johnson. I know how much you cared about her."

"Yes. Betty was a good friend to me for many, many years, and I will miss her very much."

"Me too," agrees Punky. "Its all because of you and Betty that I'm a doctor. Without yours and her support and encouragement, I wouldn't be where I am today. She was my mentor, and the reason I became a physician. I'll never, ever forget her. I'm going to miss her so much. Well, I'd better head to the hospital now. I'll call you in a little while."

"Okay. Bye, Punky!" Henry says. "Take care of yourself. I'll talk to you soon. Bye!"

"Bye, Henry!" replies Punky, hanging up the phone, and grabbing her jacket, purse, and bag, as she rushes out the door to work.

To Be Continued……………………………………….


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Notes: I just want to let my readers know that this isn't the way I wrote my story, but every time I upload it, the site changes my indentation, tabs, paragraphs, line spacing, fonts, etc. I know it looks really sloppy but this is not the way I wrote it, yet I can't figure out how to get the site to return my stories to their original format, so please bear with me, and excuse me. If you have any idea how I can get the site to keep, and post the stories in the original format with the same indentations, tabs, paragraphs, line spacing, fonts, etc., please tell me. You can email me at: benbrattlover at yahoo dot com.

Please read and review. Be kind, yet please give me honest feedback. If you have a negative comment, it is okay to post it, but also include some practical suggestions on how I could make the story better. I love to write stories and poems and I want to be a good writer so I don't mind negative comments as long as they are not flames. Positive and/or helpful advice and pointers are appreciated and welcomed. Negative, AND unconstructive feedback is not, and will be deleted. Otherwise, feel free to write what you think, with the exception of flames. Thank you!

I don't own any of the characters, except for the ones that I create. The "Punky Brewster" characters belong to David W. Duclon, Nick Abdo, NBC, any other channel where this show is in syndication, and all the other creators, writers, producers and directors of this TV show. But I've written this story, I own this story, and all the others that I write, or have written. Please do not use, copy, post elsewhere, or reproduce it in any way, shape, or form without my permission. Thanks!

Finally, I am not a doctor. Although a lot of people in my family, including my mother, are doctors, I am not. I tried to get as much information as I could from medical research sites, and/or links to information on the Internet. But, all I know about medicine comes from growing up with doctors in my family, and from watching medical shows like "ER", "Strong Medicine", "Third Watch", and "Chicago Hope" on TV. So if I get something wrong, please excuse and forgive me for the errors.

Rating: PG, but may, or may not be increased to PG-13 rating, depending on author's whims:)

Contact: Any extra comments (beyond the review) questions, or concerns, Email me at: benbrattlover at yahoo dot com.

Enjoy, and after you're done, please hit the pretty, and sexy, little purple button at the bottom of the page, hand leave me a review. Thank you!

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"Damn! I'm so late!" grumbles Punky to herself as she sprints from the employee parking structure, into the hospital. "Harding is going to KILL me!"

Briefly flashing her employee I.D. badge at the security guard, she runs down the hall, towards the Emergency Room, where she is doing her first rotation, the soles of her shoes making a clacking noise on the floor, all along the way. Heading into the doctor's lounge, she darts over to her locker, and quickly throws her jacket and purse into the locker, before slamming the door shut, and rushing out of the lounge and to the admit desk, where a small crowd of eager, white-coated residents stand clustered around a distinguished looking, older gentleman, with graying salt & pepper hair, next to a white Dry-Erase board.

As Punky hurries over to the group, the older gentleman looks at her scornfully. "Ah, Dr. Brewster, so good of you to join us!" he remarks sarcastically, with a frown. "I'm so glad that you have _finally_ deigned to grace us with your presence!"

Punky feels her cheeks burn in humiliation at being publicly reprimanded like this. "I'm so sorry, Dr. Harding!" she mumbles apologetically, averting her eyes from the other residents. "I had a family emergency."

Dr. Harding has obviously picked Punky as his target on this day, because he continues, undeterred. "I see. Well, Ms. Brewster, you are aware that Rounds start at 7 A.M. **_sharp_**, are you not?" he asks acidly.

Punky nods. "Yes, sir," she says quietly, her cheeks flushing red in embarrassment and mortification. "Why is he picking on me like this, today of all days?" she thinks indignantly.

"And what time is it right now?"

Without making it look like she is doing so, Punky quickly glances at her watch. "Uh, 7:30, sir," she answers, before speaking again. "But like I said, I had a family emergency."

"Yet, I seem to recall that this isn't the first time you have been tardy, or late for rounds, is it, Dr. Brewster?" Dr. Harding demands, eyeing her critically. "This is why I say that women should not be doctors, or in the workforce at all, for that matter! Women belong at home, barefoot and pregnant. Instead of working, they should be taking care of their husband and kids!"

Punky looks at him, seething inside. "What a dinosaur!" she thinks, fuming. "This guy SO does not belong in the 21st century!"

"You better shape up, Dr. Brewster!" growls Dr. Harding. "Shape up, or ship out!"

Gritting her teeth, Punky nods tersely. "Yes sir."

"Well now that you have wasted our valuable time, what do you say we get back to the patients?" Dr. Harding says, turning his back to Punky, and towards the white Dry-Erase board in front of him. "Okay, in Trauma One, we have Ashley Brunner, age 6, waiting on transfer to the Burn Unit, with massive 2nd and 3rd degree burns, mainly to her face, neck, arms and hands, after tripping and falling face first into a campfire. Next, in Exam 1 is Andrés Gonzalez, age 4, who was bitten by an unknown stray dog, and has to start the rabies vaccine. In Treatment Room 1, 8 year old Trevor McCafferty has a tibia fracture which needs to be set………………….."

As Dr. Harding continues to drone on, Punky's mind begins to wander, still reeling from the discovery she made last night, coupled with the stunning and tragic news of this morning. Eventually, Dr. Harding finishes Rounds, and dismisses the residents. The crowd disperses to the admit counter to pick up charts, and start attending to patients, as Punky follows behind.

A couple of hours later, Punky is busy examining Emily Schafer, a cute, blonde 5 year old girl with a 104 degree fever, and a possible case of strep throat, when a tall, sandy haired man, with deep blue eyes, sauntering by, stops, lounging against the open doorframe.

"Ahem!" he clears his throat, rather loudly.

Punky looks up, and seeing who it is, she takes her stethoscope out of her ears and loops it around her neck with a sigh. Quickly shaking her head and mouthing the word "later" at him, she turns back to Emily and her worried mother, flashing a smile, to help ease their fear.

"Mrs. Schafer, don't worry, everything is going to be all right. It's good you brought Emily in. You were right, her temperature is extremely high. We'll get started right away, trying to get her cooled down," explains Punky. "In the meantime, we're going to run some tests. But, it's probably just a bad case of strep throat, and if so, a course of antibiotics should take care of it. In any case, once we run some tests, we'll know better where we stand. The nurse will be in soon, and I'll be back in a little while to check on her."

"Thanks so much, Dr. Brewster."

Punky smiles again. "You're welcome, Mrs. Schafer," she says before turning back to Emily, and bending down a little so that she is eye level with the little girl. "Emily, I know it sucks to be sick. But we're going to make you feel better very soon. So just hang in there for me, okay?"

Emily nods weakly, managing a wan smile for her doctor.

"The nurse will come in soon to draw some blood…………..." Punky begins, but before she can say anything more, she is interrupted by a loud scream.

"NOOOO!" yells Emily hysterically. "No needles! NOOOO! No want needles! NOOOOOO!"

As Mrs. Schafer bends over her daughter's bedside, cradling Emily in her arms, Punky nervously glances back behind her, and sees the same sandy-haired man, still lounging in the doorway, an amused expression on his face. She quickly glares at him, before turning back to her patient.

"Shhhh, Emily! It's going to be all right!" croons Punky. "Because we have this magic sticker, or some magic cream. When we put it on you, it makes your skin go to sleep for a little while so that you can't feel anything! No needles or anything! It's really neat! Do you want to see it?"

Sniffling, Emily nods, suddenly interested.

"Okay, I'll be back soon!" Punky promises before leaving the room. As she walks through the doorway, she walks right past the sandy-haired man, without a single word, or even a glance in his direction.

As he follows silently behind, Punky continues to walk, staring straight ahead.

"Punky!" he calls out. "Punky, please, can we talk?"

It is only once she is out of sight and earshot of her patient, and her patient's mother, that she finally turns to face him. "What do you want, Ryan?" she asks sourly.

"I want to talk to you!"

Punky sighs heavily. "All right," she concedes. "But not out here in front of everyone."

"Then where?"

"In here." Punky says, leading him over to an empty Exam Room. Once inside, she quickly shuts and locks the door, drawing all the curtains closed before she turns back to Ryan, her arms crossed.

"All right, you wanted to talk, so talk."

"Punky, what's going on with you? Why have you been avoiding me?" demands Ryan. "I thought we had something going. Now you're dodging my calls, working extra shifts to keep from going out, and trying to avoid me whenever you do happen to see me! I don't understand! Don't you want to be in this relationship? I really thought we had something special!"

"Ryan, I'm late!" Punky blurts out, before she can stop herself.

Ryan looks confused. "You're late?" he says, glancing at his watch. "You're late for what?"

"No Ryan, you don't understand! I'm **late**." Punky repeats again, putting the emphasis on the word, 'late'. "My period. I'm late."

To Be Continued……………………………………………………………………..


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Notes: I just want to let my readers know that this isn't the way I wrote my story, but every time I upload it, the site changes my indentation, tabs, paragraphs, line spacing, fonts, etc. I know it looks really sloppy but this is not the way I wrote it, yet I can't figure out how to get the site to return my stories to their original format, so please bear with me, and excuse me. If you have any idea how I can get the site to keep, and post the stories in the original format with the same indentations, tabs, paragraphs, line spacing, fonts, etc., please tell me. You can email me at: benbrattlover at yahoo dot com.

Please read and review. Be kind, yet please give me honest feedback. If you have a negative comment, it is okay to post it, but also include some practical suggestions on how I could make the story better. I love to write stories and poems and I want to be a good writer so I don't mind negative comments as long as they are not flames. Positive and/or helpful advice and pointers are appreciated and welcomed. Negative, AND unconstructive feedback is not, and will be deleted. Otherwise, feel free to write what you think, with the exception of flames. Thank you!

I don't own any of the characters, except for the ones that I create. The "Punky Brewster" characters belong to David W. Duclon, Nick Abdo, NBC, any other channel where this show is in syndication, and all the other creators, writers, producers and directors of this TV show. But I've written this story, I own this story, and all the others that I write, or have written. Please do not use, copy, post elsewhere, or reproduce it in any way, shape, or form without my permission. Thanks!

Finally, I am not a doctor. Although a lot of people in my family, including my mother, are doctors, I am not. I tried to get as much information as I could from medical research sites, and/or links to information on the Internet. But, all I know about medicine comes from growing up with doctors in my family, and from watching medical shows like "ER", "Strong Medicine", "Third Watch", and "Chicago Hope" on TV. So if I get something wrong, please excuse and forgive me for the errors.

Rating: PG, but may, or may not be increased to PG-13 rating, depending on author's whims:)

Contact: Any extra comments (beyond the review) questions, or concerns, Email me at: benbrattlover at yahoo dot com.

Enjoy and after you're done, please hit the pretty, and sexy, little purple button at the bottom of the page, hand leave me a review. Thank you!

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Ryan stares at Punky disbelievingly. "You're late!"

Punky nods. "I took the home test last night," she says, pausing to take a deep breath. "Ryan, I'm pregnant."

"You're pregnant?" Ryan repeats, stunned. "Are you sure?"

"Definitely." Punky answers firmly. "But I have an appointment with my gynecologist after work, to double check."

Ryan puts his hand to his forehead in shock. "How did this happen?" he asks. "We were careful. I used a condom and you're on the Pill, right?"

"Yeah."

"So how could this happen?" demands Ryan, his eyes flashing with anger.

Punky shrugs her shoulders. "What can I say? These things happen."

"What are we going to do now?" Ryan asks worriedly. "There is NO way you can have this baby! Absolutely none whatsoever! You've got to get rid of it. Immediately!"

Punky narrows her eyes, becoming livid. "ABSOLUTELY NOT! I AM NOT GOING TO HAVE AN ABORTION!" she hisses, her face red and purple with rage. "IT'S OUR BABY & I AM HAVING IT! I'M NOT GOING TO KILL IT! NO WAY IN HELL!"

Ryan stares at her anxiously. "Punky! Keep your voice down!"

"Why?" demands Punky. "So no one will find out that you've been screwing your resident?"

"Punky!"

"What?" Punky snaps crossly. "It's true! This is just as much your baby as it is mine. Whether you regret it now, or not, you were just as much a willing participant in the process as I was, and now we're both going to have to just deal with it!"

"LIKE HELL I WILL!" barks Ryan. "There's NO way in HELL that I am going to let you and your bastard child ruin everything that I have worked for by risking everyone finding out that I've slept with my resident."

Punky stares at Ryan incredulously. "Everything _YOU_ have worked for? Everything you've worked for?" she repeats, in disbelief. "What about everything **I've** worked for? Unlike you, I didn't grow up with a silver spoon in my mouth. I worked really hard to get where I am. I didn't have everything just handed to me on a silver platter."

"Oh c'mon, not this again!" Ryan snorts contemptuously. "Here we go again with the 'You're a lucky rich kid, and I'm not' argument!"

"It's the truth!"

Ryan shrugs his shoulders. "Okay, so my family is loaded, so what? It's not like you're exactly homeless, and starving, you know!"

"No, I was just deserted by my father, and abandoned at a Chicago shopping center by my mother," replies Punky evenly. "After that, I had to stay in a vacant apartment for a few weeks, living on handouts, and whatever food my best friend Cherie could sneak out without her grandmother noticing. Then Henry found me, and fortunately he took me in. He fought for me, and he became my foster father. Henry was a photographer, and though he was almost old enough to retire, he worked really hard to support me. It wasn't easy, but we managed. But then Henry's photo studio burned down, he got a bleeding ulcer from worrying so much, and when he was hospitalized, they took me away from him."

"Yeah, but he got better, rebuilt his business, got you back and adopted you. Then later when he lost his photography business after Glossy's took it over, he opened 'Punky's Place'," interrupts Ryan impatiently. "I've heard all this before. What's your point?"

Punky sighs. "The point is that I have worked very hard to get where I am. I didn't have someone paying my entire way through college and med school like you did. Henry was 60 when he took me in and even older by the time I started college, and med school. He's done the best he can and he's worked really hard to support me, and help me out financially, but I still have to pay off thousands of dollars in student loans and financial aid." Punky sighs heavily. "I can no more afford this child, than you can for a different reason. But it's too late. Its here now and we're going to have to deal with it. Together!"

Punky is so wrapped up in what she is saying, that she doesn't see Ryan's hand flying through the air, towards her. As his slap across her face connects, the force of the blow immediately knocks her to the ground. With a gasp of shock, Punky stands up shakily, clutching her cheek.

"Like HELL I will!" Ryan snarls angrily. "If you don't have an abortion, then it's all your responsibility! I'm going to have nothing more to do with it. You want this baby, then you deal with it!"

"Ryan, I am NOT going to have an abortion! You know that even though I'm pro-choice, personally, I don't believe in abortion except in a few specific and extreme circumstances, and this is NOT one of them! This is your child too!" pleads Punky. "Your son or daughter! How can you do this? To me? To them? How can you kill your own child?"

Ryan snorts loudly. "First of all, it's not even a real person yet. It's just a developing fetus!" he says, with a sneer. "Besides, how do I know that it's even mine?"

Punky stares at Ryan, shaking her in disbelief. "You, BASTARD!" she yells furiously. "Because you were the first and the only person I've ever slept with, that's why!"

"How would I know?" Ryan shrugs his shoulders. "I mean, if someone is such a slut as to sleep with her superior, what's to say they haven't done it before?"

"You son of a bitch!" roars Punky, enraged. "YOU were the one who came on to me, practically from the day I started here. In fact, as I recall, you've been trying seduce me from the very first moment I walked into this hospital!"

"Whatever!" Ryan snickers. "Be that as it may, either you have an abortion, or you can take care of this baby all on your own. I'm not taking any responsibility for it, whatsoever!"

"You want to bet?" Punky challenges, very determined. "This is YOUR child! Don't even THINK of skipping out on your responsibilities! I'll take you to court for child support and I'll sue you for everything you've got! By the time I'm done, OUR CHILD will be the one who is LOADED, and you won't even have the 'proverbial pot' to cook in, you'll be that broke!"

"Go ahead!" sneers Ryan derisively. "Just try it. My family will back me up all the way, and we have the best lawyers on our payroll. Most of them are as slick as they come, and they'll see to it that you're painted in the media, as a gold-digging, money-hungry tramp who slept with her superior at work just to get access to his family's fortune. By the time they're through with you, forget about your career, you won't have even a shred of credibility anywhere!"

"Gold-Digging?" shrieks Punky loudly. "Gold-Digging! I could care less about your stupid fortune! I grew up without much money, and I can just keep on living without it! I just want to make sure that OUR CHILD has a decent life! That he or she will be provided for, and that they will have all the things they need, and deserve to have – a safe area to live in, nutritious and healthy food, adequate diapers, clothing and shoes, proper medical and dental care and a good education. This is your child too! YOUR son or daughter! Don't you want them to be taken care of?"

"I told you already, I'll pay for an abortion, if that's what you need." Ryan declares evenly. "But that's it!"

"Oh, how noble of you! What a perfect gentleman! Where do you want me to go to get it done? Should I go to some back alley, or is it okay with you if I go to a legitimate clinic?" Punky retorts sarcastically, as she turns to leave. "Go to HELL, Ryan, and ROT there for eternity!"

As Punky is about to stomp off, Ryan grabs her by the arm. There is a sharp glint in his eye, an evil gleam, that sends shivers down Punky's spine.

"I mean it, Punky," warns Ryan, menacingly. "Don't mess with me! I promise you, you'll regret it!"

To Be Continued…………………………………………………………………………………….


End file.
